


Purity and Poison

by DramioneTreeSap (YordlePrincess)



Category: Draco Malfoy - Fandom, Dramione - Fandom, Harry Potter - Fandom, hermione granger - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts, Post War, Seventh year
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5274335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YordlePrincess/pseuds/DramioneTreeSap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco and Hermione have returned to Hogwarts for their seventh year after the defeat of the Dark Lord. Unknown to others, a deadly poison courses within the Dark Mark on Malfoy's arm--and Hermione is the only match to draw it out of him. To save Draco's life, the two must be inseparable for six months, acting as a couple.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purity and Poison

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, none of these characters are mine. Warning--This contains sappy, cheesy, goo.

Hermione was tangled in a closet, and she wasn’t happy. It wasn’t the smell of pine cleaner, the soft glow from the Christmas lights tangled around her shoes, or the locked door behind her back. It was the insufferable blonde git kneeling on the floor, yanking odds and ends from boxes. She’d entered the closet to aid the pounding, disembodied cries for help, only to find her wand sucked from her hand by an old charm, and the door locked and magic-proofed behind her. A dusty broom-head clattered against Hermione’s foot.

“Is this really necessary, Malfoy?” Her shoe caught on the light string, and she steadied herself with a hand against the door.

“I found the lights, didn’t I?” His voice was drawling and bored as he continued to rifle through the items. “At least we can see, now.”

Hermione shuddered. She didn’t understand how he could bare to shove his hand into a dark and soggy box.

“Who knows what mold, magical or not, is sprouting on the inside of that thing?” Hermione said, grimacing. “Filch may keep a clean castle, but his private closets are a disaster.” The trap was obviously meant to catch intruders. Hermione couldn’t imagine where the Christmas lights came from, though.

“He kept a clean castle,” Malfoy corrected, standing and dusting his hands off. A pang of awkward, uninvited guilt zipped through Hermione’s chest. The caretaker had died in the final battle the year before. No one remembered which side he fought for.

“That’s what I meant,” Hermione said. Malfoy’s silver eyes gleamed in the dim, red and green tinted light. Suddenly, he lurched, his shoulder thudding against the wall on his side. “Malfoy?” She furrowed her brows.

“Don’t worry yourself, Granger,” he gasped and pressed a fist to his forearm, wincing. “It doesn’t become you.” She would’ve snapped at him, but he sounded faint.

“What’s wrong, Malfoy.” She reached up and guided his chin over to face her. His skin was cold and damp. His pupils dilated, and his breath crawled over her hand in short, shallow puffs. This wasn’t right. “Draco,” she said, guarded.

His eyes looked right through her, “It hurts.” Everything stilled. Then, he pitched forward, his head slammed against the shelf with a sharp crack. Hermione’s hands were useless against his weight, and he thudded to the floor.

Hermione scrambled to the ground, her fingers searching Draco’s neck for a pulse. Warm, slick liquid dripped over his skin. Blood.

“Draco,” she skated her hand over his face, “Answer me.” With a steadying breath, she murmured a spell of waking.

“Don’t leave me,” it was so soft that Hermione almost missed it.

“I won’t. I promise.” Hermione said. The door swung open, and bright light poured into the small space. McGonagall stood, arms crossed. Her stern expression faded as her gaze rested on Hermione’s tear streaked face and Draco’s bloodied forehead. The murky crimson had matted into the front of his hair and begun to dry on the side of his neck. A deep, black slime was soaking through the starched white sleeve covering his forearm.

“Emoveo!” The professor said, and the tar lifted from the fabric and vanished in midair. Draco’s face untwisted, and his breathing deepened. McGonagall snapped her fingers and a house elf, dressed in a light blue overalls, popped into view. “Please fetch Madame Pomfrey. It is a matter of dire importance.” The elf nodded and popped out of sight.

#

“Does it hurt to turn your neck this way,” Pomfrey held the pen to the right. Hermione started to acquiesce, before turning back to the older woman.

“Is he alright?”

Pomfrey sighed. “I already told you, Miss Granger, I will only answer your questions after you complete this exam.” Her eyes softened at the desperate look on Hermione’s face. “Your health is important too.”  

“I wasn’t the one bleeding on the floor.” Hermione’s tone was flat. Pomfrey laid the pen down. Across the room, the drawn curtains flitted back and forth. The silencing charm placed on the young man’s partition was hastily caste, and grave murmurs slipped out from under the cream colored fabric every once and again.

“I assure you, Dear, any change and you shall be the first to know.” A small cough from a bench across the room caught Pomfrey’s attention. “After Mrs. Malfoy, of course.” Pomfrey nodded to the aging blonde woman. Narcissa nodded, her chin dipping up and down rapidly. There had been no looks of contempt towards the muggleborne, and of this, Pomfrey was glad. She had enough to deal with on her hands as it currently stood.

“Pomfrey,” A man in silver robes emerged from the curtains. “You’re needed.” His eyes fell on Mrs. Malfoy. “You should come as well.”

Hermione sucked in a breath, the sound cutting through the air much louder than she’d intended. The man cocked his head. “Miss Granger, were you the girl that was with him?” Hermione nodded. “You too.”

Hermione didn’t waste a second hopping off the table.

#

Draco’s body was shaking, his skin pale. Red stained gauze wrapped around his temples. His shirt sleeve lay tattered and cut away beneath his trembling arm.

“His head,” Narcissa cried, reaching forward. The man laid a hand on her shoulder.

“That was an easy fix, compared to what we have in front of us.”

Draco moaned. A single drop of black rose from the dark mark on his wrist. The man in the robes studied Hermione, brows drawn, before whisking the drop away.

“As we’ve known for quite some time, Draco’s suffering from the Dark Lord’s poison.” The man pointed to the swollen mark. “We’ve made little progress in extracting it, remaining thankful that it has remained mostly dormant since his betrayal of the dark forces.”

Narcissa’s lips were pinched together.

“I believe his close proximity to a person so entwined with the fight for light, as you were, Miss Granger, is what finally triggered the poison into action.”

“What are you saying?” Hermione stuttered.

“Miss Granger, you pure presence is so strong, that the remnants of the Dark Lord’s curse are stirred by your mere touch. The Dark Mark, once invoked on its bearer, is a ticking time bomb. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was very certain that if he should be betrayed by his followers, they would feel the slow, paralyzing sting of death. The very darkness that makes the mark for their allegiance holds a knife at their throat.”

“How is this possible?” Hermione asked. “Voldemort is dead.” The man flinched.

“That’s the problem. The poison is dormant. It has lost some of its power, and now it is a rogue agent. It is often unnoticed until the bomb goes off, and the bearer finds  themselves faced with a long, stretched out road to death. There’s no way to estimate its coming, and extracting it before it’s active is nearly impossible. After it’s active, there’s little time to pair the victim with an adequate match, and one willing to help. Draco is exceedingly lucky to have found his match at the perfect time.” He looked at Hermione expectantly.

“What does this mean?”

“Will you do it?” Narcissa grabbed her hand, eyes wide.

“Do what?” Hermione reeled back.

“Save his life.” Tears pooled in the elder Malfoy’s eyes. Her coat was grey and black, and it had been since Lucious’s passing. Hermione shifted.

“How.” She turned back to the man.

“Spend time with him. Every free opportunity you have. Consider yourself his best friend, for the time being. Every moment you’re with him is another chance for the poison to leave his body.”

Hermione coughed. “We don’t exactly get on well.” The man raised his brows.

“I’m certain the both of you can look past your differences to save his life.”

“Oh, it’s not me I’m worried about,” Hermione mused, staring down at the form on the stretcher.

“We’ve accounted for the threat of the public,” the man said.

“What?” Hermione said.

“Master Malfoy is...not a popular figure. If news of his condition were to go public, many individuals would do whatever they could to hurry his demise along. As such, we’ve created a cover story for the two of you.”

“You’re to be his girlfriend.”

“No.” Draco’s eyes were open, now. “Never.”

“Just for the next six months,” the man hurried.

“Six months?” Hermione shrieked. “We can barely stand each other for five minutes.” Silence. “Why can’t I just, pat his mark a couple times and have it all come out at once?”

“That would kill him.” the man’s face was stone. “The timing of this is precarious. Let it come on it’s own, as what’s natural.”

“None of this is natural,” Draco spat. “Least of all Granger pretending to be my intended.”

“No one said anything about marriage, you ferret.” Hermione bit back.

“Children!” Narcissa’s voice was thunder and lightning. Calm settled before she continued in a soft tone. “I expect maturity and grace from both of you. Miss Granger, you will be handsomely rewarded if you agree to participate.”

“You don’t have to bribe me to save a life,” Hermione met her glance, intensity burning through her. “I never said I wouldn’t do it.”

“I won’t.” Draco said, struggling to sit up.

“So help me, Draco,” Narcissa marched to his bedside. “If you don’t do everything in your power to follow Dr. Mateen’s directions, if you so much as think of leaving the family heirless because of your own pride, I will destroy you before the poison has a chance.”

Draco swallowed and nodded.


End file.
